“There was no Second Army then,” Yuri continued. “Ravka’s soldiers fought and died just as other men did. But as the legend goes, Yaromir built an altar atop a hill in Os Alta—”
“The site of the first royal chapel,” said Tolya.
Yuri nodded. “The young king prayed to all of the Saints who would hear him, and the next day, a group of monks arrived at his door and offered to fight by his side. They were not ordinary monks. When they went into battle they could take on the shapes of beasts. They fought not as men but as all manner of creature—wolf, dragon, hawk, bear. The king had heard stories of these monks but hardly believed they were true until he saw these miracles for himself.”
“Always with the miracles,” grumbled Zoya.
“Yes,” said Yuri, opening his eyes, fervor burning in them like a brand. “Always. The monks agreed to fight for the king. They asked for neither gold nor land but only that one of them would always remain at the king’s side so that Ravka would forever be devoted to the worship of the Saints. The monks plunged into battle and sent the enemies of Ravka scattering, pushing them back and forming the borders that would hold, more or less, for thousands of years.” Yuri’s voice rose, caught in the telling of his tale, all hesitation gone. “But the battle lasted so long that when it was over and it was time for them to return to their human forms, they could not. Their leader brought them to the site of an ancient thorn wood, and there they endured a dangerous ritual: the obisbaya. Those who survived became men once more and their leader took his place beside Yaromir. Eventually, the priest who held the office closest to the king was given the title of Apparat, and the holy soldiers that surrounded him became the Priestguard.”
“Some people claim the first Priestguard were Grisha,” said Tolya.
Tamar touched her fingers to the shark’s tooth at her neck. “In that version, the animals they became were the first amplifiers. Their spirits made the monks’ powers stronger.”
Nikolai studied Yuri. The story was strange, no doubt, and likely more fiction than fact. Even so … “A ritual to purge beast from man. What exactly did it entail?”
Yuri pushed his spectacles up his nose, the confident scholar vanishing with a single gesture. “I’m not sure. There were … are conflicting texts.”
“You’re not really a firebrand, are you, Yuri?”
A smile touched the monk’s lips. “I suppose not.”
“And yet you ended up at my gates, calling me a traitor and a thief.” Yuri at least had the manners to squirm. “What brought you there?”
“The Saints. I believe that.”
Nikolai had his doubts. “Tell me about this ritual.”
“Why?” Yuri asked, brow furrowing.
“I am a king. I long for entertainment.”
The monk tugged on his scraggly beard. “I don’t know the details. There are conflicting accounts in the texts, and I don’t … I’m no longer permitted …”
“They’re religious texts, aren’t they?” Nikolai said. “From the Priestguards’ library. You don’t have access anymore.”
“No.” The ache in his voice was palpable. Nikolai thought he understood. There had been a time when words had been the only place he could find solace. No book ever lost patience with him or told him to sit still. When his tutors had thrown up their hands in frustration, it was the library that had taught Nikolai military history, strategy, chemistry, astronomy. Each spine had been an open doorway whispering, Come in, come in. Here is a land you’ve never seen before. Here is a place to hide when you’re frightened, to play when you’re bored, to rest when the world seems unkind. Yuri knew that solace. He had once been a scholar. Perhaps he’d like to be one again.
Nikolai stood. “Thank you, Yuri. You’ve been most helpful.”
The monk rose slowly. “I have? Then will you lend your name to our plea, Your Highness? The Apparat cannot ignore the voice of the king. If you would petition him to—”
“I will think on it, Yuri. You’ve made an interesting argument. For now, I will have you escorted back to your rooms.”
“Then I am a prisoner still?”
“You are a welcome guest whom I don’t want to stray too far. And perhaps I can get you access to some reading materials.”
Yuri paused as if uncertain he’d heard correctly. “My … books?”
“Perhaps.”
“That would be … No, I must return to my fellow worshippers outside of the city. You cannot keep—”
“And you will. But we must ask that you enjoy our hospitality a short while longer. While we consider the merits of your case.”
Yuri’s chin lifted. “For the Starless One, I can wait an eternity. But do not play games with me, Your Highness. I did not come to the capital to be laughed at or to dillydally about.”
“Dally, yes; dilly, no,” said Nikolai. “Gave it up in my youth.”
Zoya rolled her eyes, and Tolya shuffled Yuri out the door and into the care of two palace guards.
When Yuri was gone, Nikolai rose to look more closely at the pins on the map. In the wake of the monk’s departure, the silence in the room felt heavy, as if another presence had entered the chamber, something old and nameless.
“The boy is mad,” said Zoya.
“He’s a believer,” said Tolya. “Those aren’t the same thing.”
“And I’d rather a true believer than a man like the Apparat,” Genya added.
“How can you say that?” said Zoya. “He worships a tyrant, a murderer, the man who tortured you.”
Genya sighed. “Can we blame him for being drawn to the Darkling’s strength? We all were.”
“We didn’t know what he was then.”
“Didn’t we?” Genya adjusted her eyepatch. “Yuri is a frightened boy looking for something bigger than himself to give his life meaning. There are people like him all over Ravka.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Tolya sat down beside his sister, and Nikolai caught the look that passed between them. This was not the time to start keeping secrets. “What is it?”
Tolya heaved his great shoulders. “There may be something to Yuri’s story. The Priestguard weren’t always just lackeys for the Apparat. They were holy warriors who served the crown as well. When I was younger I wanted nothing more than to join them.”
“What stopped you?” Nikolai asked. He wasn’t surprised exactly. Both Tolya and Tamar had been raised in the church, and he was well aware that if Alina Starkov hadn’t given Nikolai her blessing as king, the twins would never have pledged themselves as his guards.
“They wouldn’t let me join,” said Tamar. “No women allowed.”
Tolya nodded. “I had to question a holy order that claimed to want warriors but would deny a fighter like Tamar.”
Tamar rested her hands on her axes. “The Saints had a different plan for us.”
“Ah,” said Nikolai. “But what do the Saints have planned now? Zoya, when I got free from Duke Radimov’s estate in Ivets, you found me where?”
“A goose farm on the road to Varena.”
Nikolai touched his finger to the map. “A northeastern path. But every time I’ve gotten loose from the palace, I’ve headed northwest. Each time I’ve taken the same route, just gone a little farther. What if the creature is trying to get to that spot on the Fold? What if it wants to be free of me as much as I want to be free of it?”
“Or what if these supposed miracles are a plan to lure you from the palace?” said Zoya.
“To the Fold? Why?”
Zoya cast up her hands. “I don’t know.”
“The ‘miracles’ began when the demon woke inside me. It may be connected to the Darkling’s power or Yuri may be talking nonsense, but that pattern is real. Something is happening, and it’s connected to this spot on the Shadow Fold.”
“It’s not safe to leave the palace—” Zoya protested.
“There are no safe places. Not anymore.” He’d proven that himself last night. “Genya will mix me a stronger tonic. David will forge thicker chains. I’m going on a pilgrimage.”
“To some mystical thorn wood?” said Zoya. “Even if it once existed, the Fold obliterated everything in its path. There’s nothing there anymore.”
Tolya spoke a long string of words, only a few of which Nikolai could pick out. Then he said, “Lost faith is the roots of a forgotten wood, waiting to thrive once more.”
Zoya narrowed her eyes. “We agreed no poetry during meetings.”
“It’s liturgical Ravkan,” Tolya objected. “It’s from the Book of Alyosha, which you might know if you ever went to church.”
“It’s a wonder I’ve survived this long without such knowledge.”
“Tolya,” Nikolai interrupted. “I’m going to need you to find any texts you can on the obisbaya and anything connected to it. I don’t want Yuri to be the only scholar I can rely on.”
“I’m not a scholar,” protested Tolya.
“You might have been in another life,” said Nikolai.
“What do you mean, the only scholar?” Zoya said. “You can’t possibly mean to travel with the monk.”
Genya shifted in her seat. “It will look like you’re lending support to the Cult of the Starless. I don’t like the message that sends.”
“We’ll make sure Yuri is disguised, and I don’t intend to take a direct route to the Fold,” said Nikolai. “There may be something we can learn at the other miracle sites, and visiting them will give me an opportunity to walk among my subjects before I choose a bride. We have armies massing at both borders, new Lantsov pretenders cropping up to make claims on the throne. Our coffers are empty and our allies are few. I cannot afford to lose the support of the common people. We’re going to need it in the days to come.”